Blankets of Black
by welcometotheoc
Summary: what was I supposed to say again? ah yes Response to Carebear Stare's Challenge, Black is not a color, it is the absense of all color, all light. Carebear Stare ROCKS! WE LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOVER HER! yes we certainly do! :D


Hey Y'all... haven't written anything is the most longest of times! anyways I think i shall finally post that third chapter of The Hardships That Follow... but with out further ado here is MY response to Care Bear Stare's Challege, warning though its no where near as good as dear old Genevra's! (do you realise she has written 26 stories! WOW! go her!) and of course and Gen so diligently said... we love care bear stare and has gen said her ideas are AMAZING! and shes like a genius... gosh i am really not that good at praising people... sorry clara!

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**Challenge: **Black is not a color, it is the absensce of all color, all light.

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**Disclaimer: **I dont own anything to do with The OC. comprende?

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**Blankets of Black**

She looked over at the familiar face. She was expecting to see the confident young woman she had once known but all she saw now was the broken shadow of a child. She saw the body of a young woman, but the face of an old one. With wrinkles forming around her mouth which at that moment was forming a perfect little grimace. Her eyes were filled with worry and regret and pain. She was sitting perfectly straight, facing ahead and not making eye contact with anybody, only looking at the wooden box in front of her. She shouldn't have to be here. No one should and especially not someone that young.

She herself looked down at the dress that she was wearing. She could not remember putting it on. She remembered waking up and everything else was a blur, but here she was. No-one should have to go through this. It was wrong, it was biologically wrong to outlive your children. You should never have to bury them. She slowly walked over to the young woman she was staring at just moments before.

The girl looked up at the woman sitting next to her quickly before looking back down at the rounded ball of her stomach and then back at the black fabric of her skirt. Kirsten followed the younger woman's gaze to her skirt. She saw the black of the skirt reflect up to the girls face turning it a murky sort of grey, and up to her eyes turning the light green to a much darker color. The young woman looked up and into the Kirsten's eyes. She did not flinch and the black in her eyes did not recede. Kirsten looked into those eyes. It was almost like she could see the pain, but she knew it wasn't even the edge of the thoughts going through that woman's mind.

Kirsten slowly unfolded an arm from her lap and wrapped it around the fragile figure and pulled it close to her. She saw the silent tears run down translucent cheeks. There was no shaking, no sobs, no loud expressions of grief. She had lost her savior and was too afraid to fall apart because she might not be able to put herself back together again.

The funeral started, the funeral ended, people had come, and people left. Now there was no one left but Kirsten and the girl. She didn't want to leave her alone, she couldn't leave her alone. Leaving her would be like betraying her son. And she couldn't do that. She had promised him, and that was one promise she would never let down on. He had known that his young wife would not be able to exist on her own. He had seen her come too near to self-destruction too many times before.

After what seemed hours Kirsten felt the small tear patch on her shoulder dry up and the fingers that had wrapped themselves around her own unclench slightly and the younger woman pull away. She heard the young womans crackly voice tell her to go ahead she would be there in a second. She needed a few moments by herself. Kirsten obliged and slowly made her way to the end of the aisle, the smell of the flowers that had been strategically arranged blowing their strong scent up her nasal passages and making her feel sicker then she already was. She turned around slightly and saw the young woman resting her hand on her rounded stomach and whisper soft sigh to it before slowly getting up and making her way to the door and onto the rest of her life, which would never be the same again.

Black is not a color. It is the absence of all color, of all light. It was how she felt now. Everything was black… she was black. She couldn't see any light. Everyone said that there was a light at the end of the tunnel, but everything looked pretty dark to her, pretty black. Once you lose someone you love there is no going back. Its like getting a part of your soul ripped out, a part of your heart and all that's left is a deep, dark, blackness where light can never seep into again.

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Okay now I have a challenge for you!

Write a story based around and/or including the line: Can you hear we when I shout out your name?

You dont have to include it cuz I know it would be hard one to include, what ever ideas come to your head... if your interested let me know! either in a review (with your email)or welcometotheoc(at)hotmail(dot)com.


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